What kind of duel summoned so many powerful Magic Spirits, only to have them stand by and watch?
Charging in together and ganging up in the name of justice—that was the standard way to duel with Magic Spirits! Sending only one Magic Spirit, and not even the strongest one, to face the enemy—who was that supposed to insult?
Grace Leon, or the orc prince?
Or even the Lionheart King and the Orc Kingdom itself? There had never been any shortage of people who blew things out of proportion in this world. If they were not stupid, then they were malicious.
Yet those faint dissenting voices were quickly drowned beneath a tidal wave of applause and cheers, leaving not even a ripple behind.
As for the Lionheart King himself, watching from the Orc Kingdom, his mind was not so narrow as to take offense over something like this.
On the contrary, Grace Leon's Berserk state had earned him back some favor.
That suddenly awakened Berserk ability made him feel, all of a sudden, that his twenty-second son still had some fighting spirit in him.
It was not frightening to lack ability for now. What was frightening was having no desire to improve. After all, he only had two sons with strong Magitech talent; he had no choice but to place high hopes on them.
"Roar!"
Gret Leon, reborn from the "Graveyard" zone, let out a lion's roar as if venting his frustration. Then he flicked his sleeve and withdrew from the dueling field.
The duel was over. There was no point in saying more.
His opponent really was stronger than him. So-called grade level could not serve as a standard for measuring strength at all.
If the label on Dark Demon were changed from "third-year student" to "Son of the Valkyrie,"